The Graveside Committal
Worship
Life Everlasting
The Essential Book of Funeral Resources
Object:
Graveside committal services are kept very short in my tradition. Actually, it may not be my tradition, it may be the fact that I live in a place where it rains two months a year and snows five months a year. Anyway, brevity is of the essence at the graveside. More than anything, we wish to give families an opportunity to say their final good-byes and begin the closure process. To that end the following ideas may help.
Saying the Lord's Prayer helps the gathered to become one and to get focused.
Performing some simple ritual of saying good-bye is very helpful. In many traditions, this might involve dropping a handful of soil onto the casket. That seems a bit cold and dead to me. I prefer the use of flowers which are symbols of beauty and new life. Make sure that the funeral director brings flower arrangements from the funeral home to the graveside. Then, as the service ends, allow people to pull a flower from the arrangement and place it on the casket. This or some other closing ritual helps family members with pulling away from the casket.
In the end, we also need to make sure that people leave the graveside knowing that it doesn't end here. They need to know that this is not "good-bye," but rather, "See you later." I accomplish this by using stories.
The following is a story I wrote for a woman I buried many years ago:
Long ago and far away there was a little village. It was a typical village in most ways. There were children playing, and people working. Markets bustled, people gossiped, and life moved forward a day at a time. But this village had one extraordinary citizen, and one wonderful tradition.
Every evening the people of that village gathered around the cottage of a little old man. They called him simply, "The Maestro." Each night he would come out onto the porch and play for them the most beautiful music. They would sing along, and dance, and no matter how hard their day had been, their spirits would be lifted. For this "The Maestro" was loved.
For many years he played his music and spread his love and joy. But, as happens to all people, eventually the little old man died, and the people of that village were heartbroken. For days they walked around in sadness and silence. No one spoke. They wept and wondered how life could ever be good again now that the music was gone. On the day of the funeral, they all gathered at the little village church, and then went to the cemetery. As the sad service at the cemetery ended they stood silently around his grave. Sorrow filled their faces.
Then a little one began to softly sing one of The Maestro's songs. At first people didn't know what to do or think. But soon another voice was added to the first, and then another, and another. Smiles began to break out, and the few voices were joined by the many until all were singing and the music came to life once again. Because, in truth, the music wasn't gone at all, it was in them, just where The Maestro had put it. After that day, the singing went on in that village night after night just as it always had, and though The Maestro was missed, his music lived on, and the joy continued in that village.
So, maybe your maestro is gone, but her music is not. It is in each of you.
Saying the Lord's Prayer helps the gathered to become one and to get focused.
Performing some simple ritual of saying good-bye is very helpful. In many traditions, this might involve dropping a handful of soil onto the casket. That seems a bit cold and dead to me. I prefer the use of flowers which are symbols of beauty and new life. Make sure that the funeral director brings flower arrangements from the funeral home to the graveside. Then, as the service ends, allow people to pull a flower from the arrangement and place it on the casket. This or some other closing ritual helps family members with pulling away from the casket.
In the end, we also need to make sure that people leave the graveside knowing that it doesn't end here. They need to know that this is not "good-bye," but rather, "See you later." I accomplish this by using stories.
The following is a story I wrote for a woman I buried many years ago:
Long ago and far away there was a little village. It was a typical village in most ways. There were children playing, and people working. Markets bustled, people gossiped, and life moved forward a day at a time. But this village had one extraordinary citizen, and one wonderful tradition.
Every evening the people of that village gathered around the cottage of a little old man. They called him simply, "The Maestro." Each night he would come out onto the porch and play for them the most beautiful music. They would sing along, and dance, and no matter how hard their day had been, their spirits would be lifted. For this "The Maestro" was loved.
For many years he played his music and spread his love and joy. But, as happens to all people, eventually the little old man died, and the people of that village were heartbroken. For days they walked around in sadness and silence. No one spoke. They wept and wondered how life could ever be good again now that the music was gone. On the day of the funeral, they all gathered at the little village church, and then went to the cemetery. As the sad service at the cemetery ended they stood silently around his grave. Sorrow filled their faces.
Then a little one began to softly sing one of The Maestro's songs. At first people didn't know what to do or think. But soon another voice was added to the first, and then another, and another. Smiles began to break out, and the few voices were joined by the many until all were singing and the music came to life once again. Because, in truth, the music wasn't gone at all, it was in them, just where The Maestro had put it. After that day, the singing went on in that village night after night just as it always had, and though The Maestro was missed, his music lived on, and the joy continued in that village.
So, maybe your maestro is gone, but her music is not. It is in each of you.
